Horace and the Hearth

Cherry gawked at the man, dressed in a luxurious black suit, standing beside her bed, blinking a few times and rubbing her eyes. His long, silky white hair draped over his left eye, and although there were wrinkles under his eyes, he still had the same pretty face as always. Except this time, his eyes clouded with a long period of darkness.

Holy shit, now she was seeing things.

“Yep, I’m tired as hell,” Cherry mumbled, shifting around and facing away from him. “Time to sleep.”

It took a few seconds before Horace snapped out of his reverie next. “O-Oh, alright then…” He gently pulled the bedsheets over her shoulders and tucked her in.

Just that gesture alone made Cherry bulge her eyes in disbelief.

There was no way a hallucination could do this.

Before Horace let go of the sheets, Cherry whipped back around and firmly snatched his wrist, causing him to jolt and lean away. She gaped down at her grip, squeezing it tightly to confirm his warmth.

She faced Horace and dropped her jaw. “M-M-Mister Horace?” she squeaked. “Wh-What…”

Horace loosened his shoulders and quietly sighed. “My apologies,” he said, chuckling. “I didn’t mean to disturb your slumber.”

Cherry let go, shook her head, and smacked her cheeks. “No, I still can’t believe it. You… you have to be Ren!”

“What? No, it is me, Cherry.”

“Prove it!” She pointed a shaky finger at him. “If you’re really you, tell me something only you and I know!”

Horace hummed as he tapped his chin. “Well, you were terribly shy and quiet when we first met. Haha, the first thing you told me was that I had ‘a face too pretty for a man.’”

Cherry slowly lowered her fingers as her chest grew warm with nostalgia.

“I taught you how to play a few instruments, how to sing and dance, and I even taught you a few etiquette courses.”

“That’s… R-Ren would know that much! What about secrets? What secrets did I tell you?”

“Well, you once told me that you and Charlie snuck a cat into Astrale Academy and almost got suspended were it not for Theodore and Dorothy helping you out.”

Cherry held her breath and slid off the bed. “It’s… it’s really you?”

Horace chuckled. “I can keep going if you’d like. I also remember you said you tried gifting Charlie a hamster on one of his birthdays, but while you were walking home with one from the pet store, the hamster suddenly had a heart attack and died, so you whipped up a little crochet pouch for him at the last minute. You also sometimes snuck away from school with Charlie and the Vamier kids for whatever strange adventures you all were having—”

“Okay, okay! I’m convinced now!” she cried, waving her hands. “It is you! Did… did Ren teleport you here or something?”

“Indeed. He already explained everything to me, but I still find this whole circumstance hard to believe as well,” he murmured. “But… what happened to your hair?”

She combed through her fringes. “Oh, this. Charlie burnt them by accident on that day.”

Horace reached for the vanity, pulling out the drawers. “No, this will not do,” he said. “I’m going to fix your hair.”

“What? Now?!”

“Yes, now.” He pulled out a pair of scissors, moved the chair, and accidentally slipped an apron off in the process. He gaped at the clothes and lifted them. “Oh my god, what have you been wearing? What’s with these filthy rags?”

“Oh, uhm, we’ve been exercising a lot recently. So, it got pretty dirty.”

Horace contorted his face. “That wretched father of yours didn’t bother to give you fresh clothes?” he grumbled. “What kind of monster is he?”

“It’s not a big deal, Mister Horace. I think he knew we’d get them dirty.”

“You don’t understand, Cherry. You and Charlie are more than Ren’s children. You’re the…” He paused and shook his head. “I-I mean, you look like a street raccoon, and I cannot let that pass!”

“Hey! Shouldn’t we worry about something more important than my looks?” Cherry planted her hands on her hips. “Like, how did you find out about me? Did Clover snitch on us?!”

“No, not directly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come sit, and I will explain my story,” he said as he switched on a lamp and a few lightbulbs. He pulled out a towel and a comb and tapped on the chair.

With a defeated grunt, Cherry claimed the seat and let her former tutor fix her hair. Horace retold his side of the story—while vaguely describing Ren’s involvement—ever since Maribel’s death, and Cherry also explained hers while he trimmed her hair.

“...And thus, here we are,” Horace murmured, taking off the towel and brushing off the remaining hair strands stuck on her pajamas. “I’m only here to see that Ren was speaking the truth. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Cherry, brushing her neatly-cut fringes. “I had trouble sleeping anyway. Thanks for the haircut, by the way.”

“Not a problem.” He set aside the tools and dusted his hands. “But more importantly, what is troubling you?”

“A lot of things,” she mumbled. “By the way, where’s Ren?”

Horace glanced at the grandfather clock. “Well, at this moment, he’s interrogating the suspects.”

“Then, does that mean we have time to talk?”

“About what?”

“You know, the usual tea time talks. Like good old times.” She shifted around in her chair and sat on its opposite side, resting her chin on its crest rail. “I’ve been aching to talk with you again ever since I recovered, you know!”

“Cherry, what did I tell you about vulgar sitting positions?”

She pouted and furrowed her brows.

“Hah, alright, alright.” Horace sat on the side of the bed and crossed his legs. “Now that you mentioned it, we haven’t talked since Lady Maribel’s passing, haven't we?”

She nodded. “After you explained everything, I get why you started the tragedy now, but… something still bugs me. What’s your relationship with Solomon and my father? I know you used to be Solomon’s butler and hated his guts because he’s a vampire, but… if you also know my dad, then…”

“Ah, right. I’m now aware you and Charlie are vampires because of him.”

Cherry shrunk behind the chair.

“And no, I’m never going kill you nor your brother.”

“...I figured, but you killed plenty of our kind already...”

Horace inhaled and folded his arms. “Did Solomon tell you why I made that vow to him years ago?”

“Huh, now that I think about it, no, he didn’t.”

With a sigh, Horace stood up and paced around the room, hands clasped behind his back. “I knew I could never win against him,” he muttered, his head low. “Lady Maribel said it herself. She viewed me more like a brother—to say it stung would be an understatement.”

He glanced at the body mirror and stared at his reflection. “One day, she came home with Solomon, who showed me nothing but kindness. Hah, I was horrendously jealous of him at first sight, but I couldn’t even hate him properly when he treated us so warmly. He tormented me without even trying.”

“Wow, talk about killing with kindness.”

“...You could say that, I suppose. I had to endure it for so long, and as time passed, Lady Maribel eventually proposed to him. Haha, can you believe it? She proposed to him. That’s when I finally gave up. After knowing Solomon for a while, I was convinced he could make her happy. So, I let her go.”

Just the tone of his broken voice crushed Cherry’s heart with sorrow. “That… must’ve been so painful,” she whispered.

Horace tossed a reassuring smile. “I won’t deny it,” he said. “I knew Solomon would never want to hurt her. I just knew it. There was nothing about him that I could truly hate… until years later when he finally revealed that he was a vampire. What shocked me even more was that Lady Maribel knew that before they even courted. That’s when I thought I finally had a reason to hate him.”

Although he said that, he stretched a sad frown. Nothing about his expression showed any sign of rage at all.

Horace sat back down and stared at his palms. “But, Lady Maribel accepted him nevertheless, and that angered me more than I thought. Thus, I made that vow on a whim. It was the only thing all my years of hate and jealousy could ever cling to. If he failed to protect her from his curse, whether it was him or his kids, I swore to break off our friendship and make him pay the price. I swore I’d make his kind ever regret existing.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Cherry mumbled. “We can’t control our curse, and it’s not even his fault—or Clover’s. They both got tricked by Monty!”

“...I know now, but when I learned that this kingdom is infested with vampires like you all, I cannot help but question how many unspoken tragedies had been swept under the rug like Lady Maribel’s.”

He tossed a cold stare at the listener. “I can’t ignore it, Cherry. Too many people died by these curses you vampires carried, and too many deaths were ignored. If the public refuses to acknowledge it, then I'd make a tragedy so great they can never cover it up.”

Cherry stood up and threw her hands. “But that cost so many lives! You’ve killed hundreds of innocent people! Didn't you ever think that you would cause tragedies worse than we vampires could?”

“Of course, I did. It took me a whole month to ponder it. I almost changed my mind as a matter of fact.” He broke his gaze. “That was… until you and your brother supposedly died... and the fact that Monty played us all like a fiddle. I finally had enough of it all and no longer hesitated.”

Cherry squeezed her fists. “Do you regret it now that we’re back?”

“Hah, Ren already made me regret it by forcing me to be the leader of the Chevolaires.”

“Ren made you? I thought you established it with King Carmin?”

“Well, yes, I did. Ren… uh, didn’t want to include his name.”

Cherry plopped back on her chair and tapped on its crest rails. “Let me guess. I can’t ask anything about him.”

“I’m surprised you understand.”

“Solomon and my mother couldn’t say anything either,” she grumbled. “What’s the big deal with my father? Why the big mystery?”

“I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say about him, but he is… an important man. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Hmph, Solomon said that too.” She shrugged away her grudges and relaxed her face. “But now that my brother and I are back, are you still planning to kill Solomon?”

Horace broke eye contact and stared at a random spot on the floor.

“I take that as a no?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve come this far already,” he said. “I can’t ever forgive him for betraying my expectations—for taking away my world.”

A knot formed in Cherry’s stomach as Monty’s fake smile flashed through her mind.

Oh, she knew it too—the pain of betrayal and disappointment.

But now that she thought of it, she quite forgot about her own desire for revenge. Perhaps her busy workout routine or the fact that she only ever thought about how to stop the conflict between her loved ones distracted her from such thoughts. No doubt about it, she already planned to burn down all of Monty’s merchandise she bought, but it wasn't like she came up with a hundred ways to kill him or anything.

Cherry took a deep breath and stood up again. “Mister Horace, killing Solomon won't make anything better. He never wanted to hurt anyone, and neither did his kids. You know that, don’t you? Nobody here wants to fight, especially me!”

Horace raised a brow. “And here I thought you might understand me, considering what Monty did to you.”

“No, I do understand. It’s just not the right answer!”

“So you’d forgive him?”

“Hell no! Monty caused all our suffering to begin with! I hate him now!” She lowered her chin and twiddled her thumbs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not forgiving you either for causing the tragedy, but I... can’t hate you.”

She shyly looked away. “Because you… you’re still the same teacher who helped me more than I can count. That’s different from Monty being my role model. Unlike him, I know you.”

She scowled, gripped a fist, and approached him. “And because I know you, I can do this!”

With all her might, Cherry slapped Horace across his face.

The ex-butler flinched and cupped his cheek, wide-eyed.

“That’s for killing all those people eight months ago.”

She slapped him again.

“That’s for causing hell during the past few months.”

She slapped him one more time. “And that’s… for being so stubborn.”

Horace rubbed his swollen cheeks, dryly chuckling. “I deserved that.”

She loosened her shoulders and knitted her brows. “But, even after all that, you’re still kind as always, Mister Horace. You could’ve decided to chase after Solomon right now, but you’re still here.”

Horace frowned and stood up, stepping away from her. “I’ve already done irreversible things, Cherry. What makes you think I can make amends after all this time?”

“I mean, I can help and tell Solomon before you meet him.”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, I… erm, y-you can’t. I need more time. Damn it, why did Ren leave me here…?”

Horace paced around and mumbled under his breath, biting his thumb nail as a bead of sweat trailed down his jaw. The sight of him being so agitated reminded Cherry of herself, and by instinct, she approached the balcony windows and drew the curtains apart.

“Mister Horace, have you ever stargazed before?”

“Pardon?”

“Whenever I feel upset or anxious, I'd stare at the stars to calm down. Maybe it can help you too.”

Horace stared at the open windows and frowned. He slowly approached it and stopped behind her. “I don’t like the stars,” he muttered. “They're bright, but impossibly far and eternally quiet. Everyone can see them, but they never acknowledge us in return. And for some reason, many people think these stars could listen to our wishes, let alone possess any sentience. The stars were never made for us, and they serve no other purpose but to bring light into our night sky.”

She closed the curtains and pouted. “Geez, you could’ve just said no…”

“But then there's you, Cherry. You shine brighter than any star up there.”

“Huh?”

“Haha, I haven’t forgotten your dream, you know.” He ruffled her hair. “If you ask me, you can be something more special than those stars.”

“What? There’s something better?”

He stretched a smile. “You’re more fit to be our 'hearth,' Cherry. Our warmth and light that we can reach and associate as home. It's the best form of light that brings people together.”

She widened her eyes. Something warm fluttered in her chest as she bounced his words around her mind.

A hearth, huh?

A few memories fluttered through her mind with such a word: a memory of her and her brother snuggling up by the fireplace after running home soaked from a storm, a memory of her family having a winter party with the Vamiers, and a recent memory of her chatting so carefreely with the others here at this mansion.

How couldn’t she have realized it sooner? What was more important than pursuing her dreams—hell, what convinced her to pursue them to begin with, what meant to her more than anything else…

It was her home. The comfort of family.

Becoming a “hearth” to her home and family… didn’t sound so bad.

Her heart abruptly throbbed at the realization, and before Cherry knew it, her palms grew warm.

She raised her hands, gaping as they began to emit tiny, golden-white particles shaped like stars, gently floating above her palms.